A child draws a tree.

The brown trunk is powerful and straight.

The green canopy full and symmetrical.

More of a symbol of the real thing than reality.

In the forest, the tree endures hot summer days and icy cold nights, squirrels and woodpeckers, drought and floods.

Their limbs snap in the wind and all sort of vermin want their bark and timber.

And let us not forget the never-ending onslaught of bugs, worms, and disease.

And yet, for all they endure, just to live,

They remain relentless and persistent, handing out fruit, nuts, and shade to all who have need of them.

You’ll not find a perfect tree in the wood.

With their scars and imperfection, twists, knots, and faded color,

Only champions.